


La La Kingdom

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (god I love them so much), AU, Crack, Fluff, La La Land AU, Literally this title is so stupid I'm sorry, M/M, Modern AU, No Magic AU, Romance, Rrrromance, The Dumbassiest title but at least you have very clear what kind of au this is, a dash of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:53:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9658247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This only exists because I wasn't physically able to watch the damn movie without applying Merlin and Arthur's faces on the protagonists' like in those horrific photoshopped gifs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm begging u....... folks...... pals....... buddy boyz....... pls comment 
> 
> Unbetad and written on my cellphone so blame eventual errors on my distraction an also on the electronic asshole

"I'm going to take this memory and store it, in case I ever need a term of comparison whenever I feel one of my ideas is terribly wrong, because in complete honesty, this wins them all."  
He flicked his head up and winced, not too exaggeratedly but hard enough to make his nose scrunch up the littlest bit. Too fast, too messy, too cocky. He wanted to build somebody of his own, but all that came out was an insipid copy of every sarcastic character ever existed.  
He had let anxiety take the upper hand and ended up showcasing a mediocre performance, he could almost mouth over to the words "That's enough, thank you, we'll let you know.", when they were promptly delivered.  
He walked with his head lifted and back straight until he stepped out of the room, then slouched, deflating like one of those creepy dog shaped balloons that float around the house all wrinkled and beaten up until they can't anymore.  
He stood there, fidgeting absentmindedly with the crumpled script in his hands until somebody cleared his throat in front of him and he suddenly remembered he was in a room full of other aspiring actors, and he was making a fool of his pathetic self. He tilted his chin up, and found himself having to tilt it even further upwards, because the guy was towering over him by a significant number of kilometers.  
He jutted to the side, allowing him to enter and to steal his role, and made his way mournfully to the elevator, unrolling the ginormous scarf he had tied messily around his neck to hide the coffee stain, courtesy of a mix of a client's mighty, thoughtless striding and his own incomparable clumsiness. He supposed he couldn't blame it on dear coffee guy if his life sucked, though, so that's why he took part of the blame.  
As he was clenching his fingers around the papers and tapping impatiently with his foot on the elevator floor, he found himself being squashed - if not physically then psychologically, for sure - by two beefy blokes, clogging up the small space with their bulky muscles, and their handsome face, and their enigmatic gaze, and their defined jawlines and the perfect shape of their lips and okay, maybe he was suffocating because of hormones, envy and feeling of inferiority, other than material lack of air.  
Fact is, that every time he auditioned for a role in whatever, he found himself in a room stuffed with people more talented, attractive and interesting than him in all sorts of awkward situations, for example gingerly trying to squash his cartoonish ears against his head in an elevator with two men more handsome than he would ever hope to be.  
He sighed, leaning against the mirror of the elevator, trying to render his whole frame invisible, just like he was previously doing with his ears.

 

"Let's do something cool!"  
Was the first thing Gwaine said when he tromped into the apartment.  
"Everything labeled under 'cool' in your funny little brain involves not just breaking but shattering the law." Called out Lance back to him from the couch.  
"What about letting me slowly rot to death? It sounds like the coolest thing to me at the moment." Groaned Merlin, half muffled by Lancelot's lap. He threw himself on the couch face down and hadn't moved until his friend had come home, and even then he didn't technically move.. He was moved, though, scooped up and cuddled. They were that relaxed around each other.  
Also he really, really loved being petted on the nape of his neck and having his hair played with. It made him momentarily forget the purposelessness of his existence.  
"You mean after being done performing a fellatio on Lance?" Chirped Gwaine as he trotted by, slapping Merlin's ass.  
He liked to pretend he wouldn't be doing the exact same thing - he managed to render every situation incredibly malicious, but he was also the one who initiated engaging their therapeutic sessions of bro-cuddling with the most genuine innocence.  
Merlin groaned, maybe more pornographically than he meant to, but at least he earned a laugh from both of them, and while his friend carded his fingers sweetly in his hair, he heard him affirm: "Well, at least we know you always have a valid backup plan if this whole acting thing doesn't work out."  
The couch squeaked as Gwaine threw himself on it after hanging his leather jacket by the door, joining them.  
"You can be a revelation in the porn industry: 'find out how much sperm one elephant ear can contain before it starts leaking in the brain!', How does that sound?"  
Merlin didn't even bother turning around.  
"Horrific."  
He felt the lower part of his body being maneuvered, and then he found his legs resting on Gwaine's lap. Predictably enough, he started playing bongos with his buttcheeks, in an attempt of making him laugh like it always did. It barely earned him a snicker.  
"Aw, little Merlin, come on! I hate seeing you like this, you know it."  
He started stroking his legs affectionately, concern in his touch, and Merlin found himself being the littlest bit glad of the shitty day he had just went by. At least it earned him affection and attention by two of his favorite people. He cracked a minuscule smile, and Lancelot huffed a laugh.  
"You know, the key to my thorough, impeccable love-making is my sensitive, intuitive crotch. Therefore, I can tell you're smiling, you tragedian."  
Merlin smiled a bit wider, and his friend rewarded him by stroking his hair just the way he liked.  
Gwaine's head fell against the backrest of the couch.  
"God, look at us. I can't believe nerds like us are able to get laid.", and Merlin raised his hand, that was starting to go numb by dangling lifelessly off the couch.  
"I'm not."  
"Which I can't really explain. Not with a bum like this, at least."  
He highlighted his words by smacking a random rhythm on it until Merlin's hands came to try and shoo him away, giggling.  
His friends knew exactly what to do when he felt sad, or overwhelmed. When Gwaine was the one in a bad mood, for example, he liked to talk for hours about what was bugging him, incessantly, to let everything out. Possibly while letting a hair mask sit, but that was no one's business. The fact that one time they happened to buy facial and hair masks for shits and giggles and then it had eventually become the Treat Yourself Wednesday would die with them.  
Merlin, on the other hand, didn't like speaking about his problems. He did open up, at times, but he generally preferred not talking about it, distracting himself, watching a movie, laughing for nothing, and that's exactly what they always provided him.  
And did not fail this time, he was certain when Gwaine pulled out of a crumpled plastic bag the Harry Potter saga. They would need to buy it, not just rent it every time, it would likely be way more economic, but maybe they hoped that in doing so, he would have been subconsciously induced to not be in a bad mood as often, but it didn't exactly work.  
"How could you possibly have known?" Asked Merlin, genuinely impressed.  
"We've already told you a hundred of times when the same exact thing happened. He sent me an SOS. Come on, up you go."  
And saying that, he grabbed him by under his armpits and tried to lift him, failing miserably, so he tried a different approach and threw him out of balance, projecting Merlin's body onto his own.  
"Why, hello."  
He cooed when he found his friend plastered against him from head to toe.  
"Hey, give it back! He was warming my thighs."  
Merlin found his legs being maneuvered once again, and so he was now laying with his back on Gwaine and his legs on Lancelot.  
He grinned and braced himself for one of their movie marathons he so much cherished.

 

It lasted less than twenty minutes.  
Not longer than it took for both Lancelot and Gwaine to talk him into telling them about the reason of his bad mood. He was considering taking back whatever he thought of nice about them earlier, they were terrible. He could still admit they had a point, after all, but he would have preferred not to see it. He wanted to enjoy some calming sadness and warm attentions for a little bit more before being thrown again into anything that jogged his intense feeling of uselessness in a more active, stinging way.  
They heard no reasons. As soon as the sounds carrying Merlin's tell of his latest disappointment and his newly made decision of not wanting to even hear about an audition for the rest of his life reached their ears, they were sprung into action. They apparently agreed on something by glancing at each other, because Merlin didn't notice anything until, in the time span of a breath, he was very literally pulled on his feet by two strong pair of arms.  
"What the..."  
"We're not letting you waste your talent." Barked Lancelot while they both carried him into his bedroom, holding him by his armpits.  
"You know, you two should really stop manhandling me around however you please.", was Merlin's useless complaint, at which Gwaine retorted with Lancelot's nodding as a backup.  
"You just try and stop us. Fucker. You're one of the most talented actors there are in the entire world, and if there's something that drives me mad is people shitting over their gifts."  
He ignored Merlin's hushed "aspiring actor" correction in favor of tossing him on his bed and throwing the doors of his closet open with a slam.  
Lancelot kneeled in front of him.  
"You underestimate yourself too much. You really are amazing at what you do. Out of all the movies we've seen, your role in that crusty town theater was the only performance that has ever made Elyan genuinely cry. You're fantastic."  
Merlin circled his pointer finger with his thumb, biting his lip.  
"I'm not as interesting and charming as the others, though. And not even remotely as beautiful."  
Gwaine swatted his words away with his hand while he dug into his closet.  
"That's what I call a load of bollocks! Once I'm done with you, you'll be so handsome that everyone's buttholes will automatically enlarge of twenty sizes." He stopped, cringed and snorted. "God, I'm disgusting."  
"Never speak to me again, please." Demanded Lancelot while their friend regained composure.  
Gwaine finally clapped his hands, beginning to dig all over again.  
"Okay, let's see what we have here. Ugly shirt, abhorrent jumper, disgusting hoodie, even uglier shirt, Merlin five years ago.. bingo!"  
He found, stocked in a transparent plastic bag, a neatly folded, never used suit, with a black papillon to accompany it.  
Merlin's eyes widened.  
"Where am I supposed to wear that to?"  
Lancelot stood and grabbed his shoulder.  
"To an amazing party. We still don't know which one. But it'll be one as full of influential people and potential sugar daddies as possible."  
Merlin's nose wrinkled and Lancelot hurried to add: "the sugar daddy isn't for you.", pointing to Gwaine, who didn't even have to turn around.  
"I know you're talking about me, shut your mouths, I'm taken and faithful."  
And it was true, surprisingly. He had always been the worst womanizer existing, he broke the hearts of countless beautiful ladies and every single one of them was kissing the ground where he walked. He slept with every being that had boobs and a pulse, until he finally settled, unexpectedly, with a nice, serous.. man.  
Nobody would have called it, and especially Gwaine himself, but there he was, happier than ever, and they eventually got used to it.  
He stood and walked up to Merlin, shoving the suit into his hands.  
"I'm giving your self-loathing ass five minutes. Come on, Lance, we're waiting outside."

 

When he finally, finally stepped out of the door, he earned a few long whistles. He still rolled his eyes when he was thrown in the backseat of the car (because Lance had called shotgun), and carried to every random destination that went through Gwaine's mind.  
Parties full of that ostentatious class, laughter that bubbled through the air, tickling like a sip of champagne. It wasn't exactly their habitat, but they got on well enough not to be grabbed by the collar and thrown out, and it was surely something. He started to try and engage some conversation with known faces - known from the shiny pages of the magazines he clandestinely snuck into his room to avoid endless mocking - but the only luck he got was when they thought he was making advances to them. Not that he wouldn't whore for a role at that point, but those people, be it men or women, were just too repulsing, morally and esthetically, he just couldn't do it.  
He was starting to lose the vague flicker of hope his friends had prompted in him. Snubbed or just plainly ignored by anyone who might have given him even the vaguest resemblance of a career, he started to feel less and less sure of himself, like he ever even had been. All he wanted was to go home, he was starting to feel sweaty and dirty by wearing such a thick ensemble all that time, he would have liked to take off his tux at least, but was sure he would have forgotten it in the timespan of a glass of wine.  
And mostly, he felt useless, unwanted, unnecessary.. it was horrible, spine chilling even. All he ever wanted in his life was to be an actor, because he loved to catalyze his emotions into somebody else, shift in another identity entirely, get to experience life from the perspective of another one of the infinite specks of color in its kaleidoscope. He had also always felt the mighty need to do something to make this world better, nicer, happier, and the television was one hell of a platform to voice his heart from.  
He sighed, slouching on a small couch inside one of the infinite fancy clubs he had been dragged to. There was a soft, Christmas music in the background, it was soothing but at the same time soulless. He didn't even pay that much attention to it, he was sure it was some kind of recorded CD, but it was still nice to let himself be carried away by it. He was playing distractedly with a sticky stain on the shiny wooden table, before coming aware of exactly how gross that was.  
He jerked his hand back and settled it in his lap.  
His lids slid closed, the music started to change softly, a transition so delicate that when he opened his eyes he was startled by it being an entirely different melody, completely unknown, mesmerizingly beautiful.  
He looked around, scanning the room, that was pure, unheard genius, there was too much heart for it to be anything but live.  
And there he was, and damn him if it wasn't just like a painting, or a dream.  
Somehow, the music, so sweet and delicate, seemed to amalgamate perfectly with the light surrounding him, molding perfectly around his shape, highlighting his colors. His shining, blonde hair fell across his forehead, raining on his eyes because of the position of his head. Smooth skin, cheeks reddened with emotion and effort, teeth fretting his lower lip and - were his eyes closed? They were, indeed, and he was pouring out genuine magic through his fingers on that instrument with the certainty of somebody who had known the music for all his life, like it had been sang to him before falling asleep every night. Still, it had those swirls, those extemporary twinkles and trimmings that were proper of an exquisitely crafted improvisation, he should know, he was a master of it in his performances, and music was just another way of communicating.  
He loved it, he loved it so much he fixated his gaze on the passionate pianist and didn't free him from it until the music grew with a magnificent crescendo and culminated in an explosion of sounds, a combination of notes he didn't think could exist. Then, the man was tapped discreetly on the shoulder and led away.


End file.
